


Scar Tissue

by MrSpockify



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, M/M, Scars, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 20:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3501218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpockify/pseuds/MrSpockify
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kieren opens up to Simon by showing his scars. While Simon explores them, they both discover that scarred tissue is raw enough to be sensitive to touch. To experience the new sensation, Simon decides to let Kieren in on his own story and reveals his back scar for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scar Tissue

Kieren could hardly believe this was actually happening. If his heart could have, it would have been thrumming hard with his nerves. As it was, he felt a phantom beat somewhere deep inside his chest, and he swore he could hear a distant drum in his ears. In reality, though, he knew his body was as still and silent as ice.

His shirt slipped over his head easily, but he stilled before he let it drop, the fabric still hiding his arms. Still hiding his scars.

Simon sat beside him on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for him to be at ease with the situation. Kieren knew he would never be pressured to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, but at the same time, he knew how much Simon wanted to do this. He had promised the former disciple that he would share his past, and that meant sharing everything. That meant sharing the story of his death.

Of course, they had discussed it prior. Each knew how the other had died, and had even seen, to some extent, the scars left behind. But Kieren had never been so exposed in front of Simon before. He had never let his scars be so naked. 

“Kieren, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Simon offered, sensing his unease. Kieren shook his head and sighed.

“No,” he managed to get out. “I want to.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie. He did want to make Simon happy, and he did want to share everything with him. Part of him just wished that this wasn’t what that entailed. 

Letting out the last of his breath, Kieren dropped the shirt to the floor, exposing his flesh to the air that he couldn’t feel, yet somehow his skin still prickled as if he was cold. He shifted on the bed to face more towards Simon, who did the same. Without looking up from his lap, Kieren offered his arms, wrists up, to the other man. 

Simon took his hands like they were a precious offering, his touch gentle and appreciative. His thumbs caressed Kieren’s skin as if to smooth away his nerves, and, surprisingly, it seemed to work. Kieren raised his chin and, seeing the way Simon was regarding his wrists so softly, closed his eyes and eased into the touch. 

 

Simon could not believe how lucky he was. In all of the crazy, improbable things to happen to the world, he was fortunate enough to be a part of a rising at the same time as this boy in front of him. He had gone through Hell and back, only to be graced with Kieren. Beautiful, perfect Kieren.

He looked up in time to see Kieren’s ghostly eyes slip shut and his head fall loosely to the side. His arms were limp as they rested in Simon’s own fingers. He wished more than anything he could feel the skin. Sure, he could sense it was there, and in a way he could feel the pressure of someone else against himself. But Simon couldn’t really feel him. He couldn’t feel how soft the fine hairs were that feathered Kieren’s arms. He couldn’t feel the artist’s fingers wiggle beneath his touch. He couldn’t feel the rough texture of those scars.

Those scars. Kieren didn’t say a single word, yet Simon somehow knew the whole story behind them. He could picture the younger boy reaching the end of the line, alone, with nothing else to live for. He could see Kieren tightly holding the knife in his left hand, shaking violently before it happened. His eyes were stinging red with tears, and his breath was coming too quickly. The resolution came immediately, that he was doing this. This was happening. Kieren closed his eyes tightly and plunged the knife into his skin, moving as fast as he could. He wanted it to be so fast.

The scar on his right wrist was much deeper and thicker than the other one, and Simon assumed he had cut there first. That’s where it all began. Then Kieren must have cut his other wrist, but he was already in so much pain, had already lost so much blood, that he couldn’t cut as deep the second time. The scar on his left wrist was jagged and shallow, almost Y-shaped, as if he had to go back in there twice to get the job done. The image of a sobbing Kieren desperately cutting his wrist with a bloody, shaking hand made Simon’s heart ache. 

Slowly, Simon lifted both wrists closer, bringing the jagged scars nearer to his lips. His thumbs brushed over the stitching, and he swore he saw Kieren twitch beneath the touch. After watching the scars a moment longer and picturing over and over this boy losing all hope in the moment of his death, Simon leaned in. He breathed fleetingly over the skin, then gently pressed his lips to each wrist in turn, wishing he could convey in words what he felt for Kieren.

In response, Kieren gasped, his eyes abruptly opening. He stared at Simon and an astonished look crossed his features. Simon almost pulled away, almost asked what he had done wrong, when Kieren breathed out a soft, incredulous laugh, a smile playing at the edge of his lips. 

“I felt that,” he whispered. 

“What?”

“I… I could feel you,” Kieren repeated, pushing his wrists closer for emphasis. “When you touched my scars, I felt it.” Simon, spurred on by the giddiness in his tone, planted another kiss on the deeper of the two scars, this one a little harder in pressure. When he looked up, Kieren was watching him with a grin.

“That’s incredible,” Simon muttered, pressing one more long kiss to each wrist. He wasn’t sure why the scarred tissue was the one place Kieren could feel him, but he wasn’t about to start questioning it. It was a blessing, and he was just going to accept it happily. 

“I want to try it on you,” Kieren said, pulling his wrists away and leaving Simon’s palms feeling empty. Before he could react, the younger boy was pushing the sleeve of his jumper up, revealing the track marks he’d left in his death. They were small, black, and sad. He couldn’t even remember dying, he had been so out of it. He had been too far gone long before he died; his overdose was just a formality. Those were marks of an ugly, resigned death. 

Kieren’s long fingers hesitated above them for only a second before reaching down, touching gently at first. Fingertips grazed over the skin, around each mark, tracing a swirling pattern. He even scratched lightly before pressing down a little harder. It was beautiful. 

It was also useless. Simon wanted to feel what Kieren had felt, but he just didn’t. He could see every move the fingers were making on his skin, and if he really focused, he could faintly remember what it might have felt like before he had died and returned. But in reality, he felt nothing. 

Kieren looked up at him expectantly. Simon just shook his head a little.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “nothing.” 

“Oh,” Kieren murmured, dropping his hands back into his lap. The dejected look on Kieren’s face cut into Simon’s chest, and he wanted nothing more than to make him happy again. Unfortunately, he knew how he could do that.

“Wait,” Simon offered, reaching over to take one of Kieren’s hands in his own. He squeezed it briefly, more for his own comfort than anything else. “I think I know something that might work.” Simon let go of the hand and moved to the hem of his own shirt.

As he removed his shirt, he kept his back faced away from Kieren. Part of him thought that this was, perhaps, a horrible idea. The younger boy had already accepted the small marks on his arm, but this might be too much to handle. The scar that ran down his back, exposing his spine and stretching against staples, was hideous. It was too disgusting for anyone to see, let alone touch. This was a mistake.

Just as he was about to rewind and put his jumper back on, Simon felt added pressure on one of his hands. He looked over to see Kieren staring at him curiously, his face filled with question and care. This boy was too good for him. Simon felt a swell in his chest, and he realized he wanted nothing more than to be completely honest and open with him. 

“You... don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Simon said, wanting to make that clear. If Kieren didn’t want to face his scar, he would willingly turn it away. But he at least had to try. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, his brows furrowed. Simon, as he sighed and turned slowly to face the other direction, could only think of how beautiful Kieren was. He closed his eyes and waited.

There was an agonizingly long moment of silence where Simon was certain he had made a mistake. He wanted to shove his shirt back on, to cover the ugly scar, and run from the room to never return. He wouldn’t even look back, in fear of seeing Kieren’s face screwed up in a sickened expression. Instead, he gripped his thighs tightly and waited some more. After a few more seconds, he faintly heard a voice breathing through the words, “Oh my God.” 

“I know, it’s…” Simon couldn’t even find words to describe his own body. He sighed and looked to his lap, wanting to apologize for showing Kieren this part of him. 

“How…?” Kieren whispered, and Simon felt a dull pressure near his shoulder blade, where he assumed Kieren was touching him. He didn’t blame him for not wanting to touch the actual scar. It would be terrifying on anybody, but the fact that he was a PDS sufferer just made it that much worse. The blackness that had replaced his blood just made it more foreboding. 

“The Treatment Centre,” he explained, shrugging. “They did experiments.” The pressure on his back moved down a bit, toward his ribs. 

“Simon, I’m so sorry.” Another dull presence appeared on the other side of his scar, which he assumed was Kieren’s other hand. Honestly, this was more than he was expecting. He had figured Kieren would have been unable to look at him, let alone touch anywhere near the scar. That he had two of Kieren’s hands on him made Simon feel overwhelming relief.  
“Kieren, I—” Simon’s voice broke off and he sat up straighter, his body going rigid. 

He had felt it. He had felt Kieren. He whipped his head around so he could look at Kieren, who smiled faintly at him. A smile bubbled up at his own lips, and Simon couldn’t help but bark out a short laugh. 

“Amazing,” he breathed. 

Kieren, grinning, pushed lightly at Simon’s jaw to turn him back around, so he settled himself again and waited for the feeling to return. He felt like a child, excited and antsy, waiting to be given a gift. Biting his lip and clasping his hands together in his lap, Simon waited, the skin on his back prickling with anticipation. 

The first touch was light, a finger barely grazing the long edge of the scar, following the ridges and bumps with expert dexterity. The point was, though, that Simon could actually feel that. He could feel how soft the touch was, and where exactly it moved along his spine. It wasn’t quite the same as he used to feel things; the touch was neither painful nor pleasurable, and he still couldn’t sense any temperature. It felt more like a tingle, small yet persistent. It traveled down his back like a trail of goose bumps.

More fingers were added, so that Kieren was running both hands slowly down either side of the scar, skimming over the damaged flesh and making Simon shiver. He thought he heard Kieren chuckle at him, but he really did not care. 

Nimble fingers trailed along his back slowly, and Simon could feel each one individually as they pressed slightly harder here and scratched lightly there. He leaned into the touch involuntarily, eyes sliding shut. 

Kieren moved down the scar leisurely, and there was a moment’s hesitation as he reached the very bottom, where Simon knew his scar was the worst. His tail bone was garishly exposed to the world, the skin too marred to be pulled back together by staples. 

He was about to pull away and tell Kieren it was alright to stop when his soft fingers moved in closer around the area. Each finger, apart from the thumbs, skimmed over the scarred tissue, and Simon could feel all eight digits as prickling, individual spots on his back. Then, just as he leaned into the touch again, Kieren’s two thumbs pressed firmly onto each side of his exposed bone, pushing into the muscle there. 

A deep-seated shiver crept its way up Simon’s spine, starting at the base and crawling up slowly. His entire body tensed with it, and the skin and tissue around his scar prickled feverishly, almost too much to handle. As the tingling in his back reached its peak, at the tip of his spine where the scar met its end, Simon gasped, letting out the tension his body harbored. 

“Simon, are you okay?” Kieren asked from behind him, sounding worried. “Did I hurt you?”

Simon practically tackled him in his haste, the both of them falling back onto the mattress. He caught Kieren’s lips under his own, drawing out a kiss and pressing firmly into him. These touches were dull once again, but he didn’t mind. His back still tingled with the memory of Kieren’s fingers, and his body felt drained, but in a good way.

When he pulled away to draw in breath he didn’t particularly need, Kieren gave a small smile. “So it didn’t hurt, then?” 

“No, it…” Simon looked at Kieren as a whole, his eyes raking over the boy beneath him. He absolutely could not believe how fortunate he was. “You’re amazing, Kieren.”  
They settled in beside each other on the bed, facing one another. Simon held one of Kieren’s wrists close to his chest, rubbing a thumb over the scar there absently. Kieren, alternately, had his free hand draped over the side of the other man so he could brush lightly at the edge of his scar. They stayed like that, pressing touches they could actually feel into their skin, until they drifted off. 

Yes, Simon thought as his eyes slid shut. He was incredibly lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I just wrote some weird, new-age, soft-core zombie porn... Haha  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
